


Conversations with Depression

by Xidaer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Conversation, Depression, Gen, Mary Sue, therapy for the author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xidaer/pseuds/Xidaer
Summary: The author uses two of her favorite characters to talk out her own depression.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, it was 5 am when I wrote this and I'm Darcy in this short conversation. It made me feel better to write out this great logical friend to pull me out of the funks I get into. Not sure if this will be a reoccurring therapy for me.

“I hate myself,” said Darcy.

Jane looked up from her magazine. This was a revelation her friend had had more than a few times in the past year. More like several times daily. “Did you take your pills?”

Darcy let out a deep sigh. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” Darcy threw her an exasperated look. “What? You are. A good girl, I mean.”

“I’m also not a dog,” she paused, “or a good girl.”

“Why not?” It was time for logic.

Darcy thought for a moment. “I don’t know why. I’m just... not. And I hate myself.”

“Nope. Give me a reason.”

“Fine. I almost burnt the scones last night.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re okay just very golden brown and more crispy than soft,” Darcy said.

“Okay, slightly overdone but still delicious scones. What else?”

“I didn’t do your emails yesterday.”

Jane raised her eyebrow. “I happen to know for a fact that you did, for at least part of the day. And! I saw you working on other projects, like transcribing those old notes, when you weren’t doing emails.”

Darcy pouted. “Yes, but emails-”

“Darcy,” Jane cut her off. “Are you cable news?”

She blinked, confused. “No?”

“Then stop focusing on emails. Honestly those idiots should have, too, but yeah. Your emails,” Jane continued, “they’ll still be here for you to finish today. Or tomorrow.”

Another sigh. “True.”

“Of course it’s true. It’s science,” Jane said with faux seriousness.

Darcy gave a snort of laughter. “Whatever you say, boss-lady.”

“Damn right.” Jane said. “Feeling any better?”

“A bit. Damn your logic.” Darcy said with a small smile.

“Anytime.”


	2. Overwhelmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when at work the author is overwhelmed.

“I’m overwhelmed and I’m feeling anxiety,” Darcy said to no one in particular as she looked up from her morning assignments.

“Are you going to turn into a 10 foot tall green rage monster?” The question came from across the lab. Darcy turned her chair to find Bruce hunched over some delicate electronics.

“Um, a puddle of useless goo, maybe, but no, not a rage monster.”

“I’ve rarely found goo to be useless and if it’s not a rage monster then I think I can handle it. What’s up?” Bruce said putting down the soldering iron.

“Nothing I haven’t been over with Janey about a million times.”

Bruce started walking over. “Yes, but I don’t know anything about it. Come on,” he continued, taking a seat beside her, “What’s up?”

Darcy took a deep breath, “You know I’ve got trauma to spare right?”

“New Mexico and Dark Elves. Yes, I’ve heard,” Bruce confirmed.

“Right, and besides that my homelife growing up wasn’t super fantastic--and I got hit with a diagnosis of bipolar two about 6 years back. In any event, my brain, sometimes it’s a jerk.”

He nodded. “On that, I can easily sympathize.”

“Well shit,” Darcy said, leaning back. “I really shouldn’t complain-”

“No,” Bruce interrupted. “No. Your issues are valid and my comments on the other guy aside, you are perfectly okay to complain to me or to anyone else who volunteers to listen.”

“But-”

“No buts. I learned a long time ago that trauma survivors want to minimize what they’ve been through by saying that other people have it worse. I’ve been worse places and I’m telling you that you still have permission to complain, okay?”

Darcy took another deep breath, trying to overcome her reluctance, “Okay.”

“Okay. Now, I’ll ask again, what’s up?”

Darcy turned around to gesture to her work station. “I’ve got Jane’s professional- not technicial- emails to answer from at least last Wednesday, then my emails from god knows how far back. I’ve got this pile of data to enter and coordinate with a couple of other lab techs on getting hard copies to various university review boards that live in the dark ages. And, and, blah. I’m just blah.”

“That’s a hell of a list.”

“Tell me about it,” Darcy said, covering her face with her hands.

“Let’s go with this, how many things can you actually do at the same time?”

Darcy winced, “One?”

“One,” Bruce agreed. “You’ve got a long list of things to accomplish and it’s overwhelming. Each one of those items is important and probably time sensitive-”

“Definitely time-sensitive.”

“And you will get them done one at a time. Be mindful. If you’re going to answer emails, answer emails. If you’re going to enter data, enter data. Do your best to focus just on the task at hand.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. Last question before I head back, have you taken any medications you’re prescribed?”

“Sure you and Jane aren’t in cahoots?”

Bruce put his hands up in front of him, “I promise. It’s the same question Tony asks me whenever I need a pep talk like this.”

“Is he as good at this as you are?”

He gave a little smile, “Maybe not, but he tries-- and you’re sidestepping the question.”

“Yeah, I took them all last night per normal, but I forgot a day over the weekend. But! But I did take my as-needed anti-anxiety med a little while ago and I think it’s helping”

“Good. And missing days happen- even to me and the other guy. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said as he stood up.

“I’ll do my best. Thanks Bruce.”

“Anytime.”


	3. Mantra

Darcy looked at herself in the mirror. The vent fan had kept it from fogging up too badly so she wasn’t obscured despite the damp heat from the shower. Her hair was swept up in a towel and twisted atop her head. A second, larger towel was wrapped over her torso and breasts, tucked into itself right on top of her sternum. She ran a razor under water from the sink faucet, slicking down the 3 blades, then brought it to just under chin where soap suds and hair were waiting to be scraped away. It was easy. She’d been shaving her small beard and side burns since puberty, all the women in her family did.

She’d never been properly diagnosed with PCOS, but between the hereditary hair grow and being on the heavier side of things it was likely. The potential infertility didn’t matter much to her though, she never wanted to try for pregnancy- too many kids needed adoption. All the other symptoms though, that was the kicker. She was already becoming insulin resistant and every annual physical she’d had in the last 4 years showed her with low grade inflammation. Change was hard and it was diet and exercise that was supposed to help mitigate those symptoms.

“Today,” she said to herself as she washed the razor, “today is the first day of my change.” She turned off the faucet and placed the razor back in the pink, plastic soap dish. Untucking the towel from around her, she hung it from the shower curtain rod to dry and stood naked in front of the mirror. Looking into her eyes, she started her mantra, “I like me, all of me.”

“I like my skin,” she said running her fingers along her arms.

“I like how soft my arms are,” she said holding them straight out from her sides and shaking them slightly to see the ‘wings’ hanging from her upper arms wave. “I like how strong they are.” Darcy admired her biceps as she curled her arms up in a classic muscle man pose.

“I like my strong legs,” she said, dropping her arms to caress her thighs. “And my fabulous butt,” she said with a slap. Darcy straighten up and cradled her breasts, pillowing them up like only hands or a push-up bra could do. “I love my breasts, even, no, especially the stretchmarks. I earned those marks by growing fast. They are a part of me and I like them.”

Letting her breasts fall to their natural height, Darcy ran her hands over her belly. She took a shaky breath. This was the hard one. “I, I _like_ my belly. I like _its_ softness. I like _its_ stretchmarks. I like its rolls and the overhang here,” she said grabbing the excess flesh that overshadowed her pubic mound. She looked back into her face. “I like me, all of me, and no one can take that away from me.”

“I want to change my interior, not my exterior. I want to change my health and not the numbers on a scale. I am good enough just the way I am and those numbers can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”

Darcy leaned back against the wall opposite the mirror, her self-affirmation done. “Okay Darcy-girl, time to get a move on.”


End file.
